


Starkbucks

by hweianime



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Gen, Howard Stark's C- Parenting, In that he's actually not a shit father, Tony-centric, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hweianime/pseuds/hweianime
Summary: "Do you remember the rules Tony?" Howard asks.Tony rolls his eyes and swallows his fistful of m&ms. "I gotta run my own business until it brings up a yearly net profit of 200,000 dollars if I want to show everyone I won't run StarkIndustries to the ground.""And?"If anything Tony rolls his eyes harder. Dad was never going to let this go, was he? "And owning a strip club is not allowed."





	1. Start ups and downs

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi~~
> 
> I don't know how a business works just saying. This was my way of dealing with the idea of having to become an actual adult in society... *shudder* Anyway, I did a quick google search and found that roughly half of all small cafes make like $50,000/ year and top 7% make $250,000. So... yeah.
> 
> Anyway,  
> Enjoy~~

"Do you remember the rules, Tony?" Howard asks.

 

Tony rolls his eyes and swallows his fistful of m&ms. "I gotta run my own business until it brings up a yearly net profit of 200,000 dollars if I want to show everyone I won't run StarkIndustries to the ground."

 

" _And?_ "

 

If anything Tony rolls his eyes harder. Dear old dad was never going to let this go, was he? "And owning a strip club is not allowed." He sighed disappointedly at his father’s short nod of approval. It was such a bleeding shame. Tony could have made a brilliant stripper slash manager. 

 

“Good, now, off you go.” The older Stark gestured out the door, like a man shooing a cat. His wife stood tearily next to him. 

 

“Remember to call us,” Maria told her son fretfully, hugging him tightly as he began pushing his suitcases out of the mansion. “And your dad says that if there’s anything you don’t understand or need help with, you can ask him.”

 

“Thrice,” Howard adds. “You can ask for advice thrice before I charge you consulting fees.”

 

Maria jabs her husband with her elbow, much to her husband’s dismay. The woman had the pointiest elbows. Tony smirks, knowing first hand how painful those elbows were. 

 

"Do I get the friends and family discount at least?" 

 

Howard hesitates. The thing about Howard was, he was great at many things. Parental affection was not exactly one of them. He was too easily distracted, too awkward, too selfish, rude, business-minded, brutally honest- the list goes on. But he tries. Sometimes. 

 

"Of course you do Tony," The older Stark smiles, it's foreign on his face but genuine enough, and puts one hand on his son's shoulder gently. Tony stares at the hand with fear and awe like it was some sort of new alien life form instead of a limb belonging to one of the individuals responsible for creating him. This was like the Howard equivalent of a full-bodied hug and an 'I love you, you are the best thing ever,' rolled into one. It was the sort of thing he only got when severely and life-threateningly injured. Which, admittedly has happened enough times for Tony to confidently say he wasn;t exaggerating. "I'll give you 5% off my usual fee."

 

And _there it is._

 

Tony scowled, brushing the hand off and puffing out his chest indignantly, "No way, Jose. I'm your only son and sole heir. You give me 15% or I'm running off into the sunset." He then looked his father in the eyes, dead serious, "With Justin Hammer." 

 

Howard glared, "12%." 

 

The Stark heir smirked, "Good doing business with you old man." 

 

"You're an arrogant smart-arsed brat." His father hissed, then slapped him heartily in the back, "Knock 'em dead out there." 

 

Tony will not cry. Stark men are made of iron. He will not cry. He won't. And he will also generously ignore the shiny sheen in his father's eyes because he's pretty sure he's not any better. His mother, however, with no such family motto, was blowing her nose with her favorite two thousand and fifty dollar Chanel handkerchief. 

 

Tony does not cry. Instead, he grins roguish and confidently at his parents as he waves off their concerns. " _Please,_ this will be a cakewalk." 

* * *

 "This is not a cakewalk." 

 

Tony stares hopelessly at the large empty space that he had recently bought with a sixth of his budget. Apparently, the only reason the price for such a big place was so good was that literally, everything else was shit. And also there had been a double suicide in here last year. Probably because of the general lack of hope in the atmosphere and the faulty plumbing.

 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Tony opens his eyes again. Nope. Still intimidatingly broken. Time for Plan B. 

 

The Stark heir takes out his phone and hits speed dial. "Rhodey? Honey bear? How would you like to be my knight in shining armor."

 

"I'm training to fight for our country, Tony. What do you want?" 

 

"Well since you asked- I want my new shop to stop leaking. I want to know why there are so many forms I've got to sign. I want the cost of furniture to be less expensive. I want to know what the fuck eggshell is and why it's a better color choice than ivory. I want to know why this is so hard and why groceries are worth their weight in gold an _d why I can'thaveastripclub!"_ He's not even ashamed at how hysterical he is by the end of his rant, or how the people walking outside his sad excuse of a building has now pointedly given it a wide berth. It's been a month now since he left his parents and his fortune and it is dreadfully clear to Tony how much he has underestimated the life of a businessman starting from almost point zero. He'd gotten a sizable start-up fund so maybe he's at point three, four if he's feeling optimistic. 

 

Four out of a possible ten thousand. 

 

Even throwing his name around does not magically bring up a successful franchise from the ground it seemed. Of course, maybe it’s the fact he can’t back it up with money like he used to. God, he was _so used to it._ “Rhodey I miss money.” He whined into his phone. 

 

“I miss your money too pal.” Rhodey sighed exasperated but teasing.

 

Tony gasped in mock hurt. “ _Mean_.”

 

“Look, man, I would love to pop on over there and help you more- but basic training takes months and Christmas is the only time I get a break from it.” His friend says, genuinely upset about his plight. As he should. “Besides, to be perfectly honest I still don’t understand what you’re trying to sell here.”

 

“Oh my god, for the last time pumpkin it’s going to be a futuristic cafe restaurant toy shop that occasionally will have puppies.” 

 

“Uh huh.” Came the unimpressed reply. “Dude, I don’t think your dad is going to mind if you take your time figuring out what you want to do. You’re like twelve and fresh out of college, I’m pretty sure no one is expecting an overnight success.”

 

“One, I am turning twenty this year thank you, and two, I’ve been out of college for three years.”

 

“Which is a year longer than the time it took for you to actually graduate MIT.” Rhodey put on his worried voice, the one he does when Tony is about to do something bad or unhealthy or potentially emergency ward inducing. “Seriously, just take it easy for me okay? I don’t want this to be like when your dad challenged you to design something new for the StarkPhone line and you practically drowned yourself under the stress of it for days.”

 

Tony huffed, completely ignoring his friend’s pleas and that hot burning guilt that always makes itself known at the memories. He had fretted himself sick not knowing what would have impressed his dad and had ended up with twelve new phones, three tablets, an improved facial recognition program and some sort of block thing that spat out cheesy one-liners at people. Tony had also ended up with burns on his arms and a trip to medical for malnutrition and lack of sleep. But that was neither here nor there. “Just you wait you non-believer. By Christmas, Starkbucks will be the biggest thing to hit New York since, since, well, StarkIndustries.”

 

He can actually feel the eye roll coming through his phone. "Sure, Tony. Now did you actually need help with something or did you just want to rant?"

 

Tony paused, furrowing his brow as he tried to recall if there was anything he actually needed from his friend. He looks to the empty, concrete space that is now his, complete with puddles and mold and something suspiciously like rat poop, and he remembers. "Oh right. Um... do you know if that soap stuff you got me works for floors, walls and ceilings?" 

 

"Soap stu- do you mean _detergent_?" Rhodey burst into laughter. Tony pouted. It seemed the road to Starkbucks will be a hard and very confusing one. 


	2. ShakyLegs

The first thing Tony did was start cleaning up all the... _stains_. The second thing he did was call an actual cleaning company, hire a plumber and then try and unsuccessfully flirt his way to cheaper prices.

"I.." Tony declares to Rhodey, "am bushed."

Rhodey's face through the screen looks dreadfully unimpressed. It's also covered in sweat and dirt. Probably from military camp. "I hate you. So. Much."

"You don't understand," The Stark heir insists as he flops down on his bumpy couch and absentmindedly plays with a shiny little frog robot he made. "I did _things_ pookie buns! I had to interact with the _help_." Tony flips himself upside down and stares at his best friend seriously, "Do you know how much more expensive things are now that I only have a finite amount of cash?"

"Hatred. So. Much."

Tony waves dismissively, "Anyway, they said all the prep or whatever should be done in a few days or so. Then I get to do the fun decorating stuff!" He claps his hands excitedly, "I'm thinking the theme should be red, gold and awesome."

"I thought you wanted it all future space-y. Not.. Gryffindor." Rhodey retorted tiredly, Tony frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have called so early in the evening. The older man probably was having dinner or something in accordance to that frankly dreadful time table he has to follow.

"Uh-huh, you know what cupcake, you're right."

"Not that I'm sayi-wait. What?" Rhodey squinted suspiciously, "Did you, did you just say I was right? Like correct? Not wrong?"

Tony nodded vigorously, "You're totally right shnookims, in fact, you're so right that I need to go, uh, remodel my ideas. In my head. So you should go sleep or eat or whatever you weak mortals do to recover from that awful hunted look you're wearing."

Rhodey still looks incredibly unconvinced but seemed too tired to pursue further. Tony is proud of himself. Who says he doesn't understand people? He's clearly amazing at it. "I'll call you tomorrow then." He decides for the both of them. Because he is amazing and caring and can make these sort of adult decisions.

"Sure okay, see you later Tones." His friend finally settles on with a smile. Tony smiles back before he ends the call. He tosses his new frog toy somewhere and readjusts himself on the couch to let himself have a few solid hours of watching random shit on his phone because he deserves it. Psh. This starting a business thing was easier than he thought.

* * *

This can't be right.

Tony stares at his bill for the month. It's funny how one piece of paper can blow his mind. He's a genius. More doctorates than he knows what to do with and one of the brightest minds in this generation. And yet the numbers in his bank account confound him.

"F-f-four thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven dollars?!" He screeches, "It's only been two weeks!"

The Stark heir looks at the statement again. It's like reality had crawled through his window and slapped him hard. He didn't even know his groceries alone cost like six hundred dollars, or that his phone actually incurred costs. Like, he _made_ that phone, if anything that phone should be paying _him_!

This was, this was not good.

Tony's leg is jumping up and down furiously as he scanned every last cost he'd made in the last fortnight. It was worse than the time he had thought he'd gotten a B in biology in his first year at high school. Mostly because he actually got an A- in that exam. He almost pours himself a coffee cup of whiskey to get through his expenses until he realizes said whiskey was one of his main expenditures.

Shit. And here he thought he was slumming it with only the two hundred dollar bottles instead of the usual high class shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"Okay, so this is a small setback. Totally minor, totally fixable." He says to the room. The room is silent in its judgement. At least Dummy in the corner beeps somewhat encouragingly at him. Dummy is great. “I’m just going to have to cut back some things in favor of getting the relevant expenditures sorted for my business first. And, and, I guess I could... um...” Tony swallows audibly, “Shit. I have to get a real job don’t I Dummy?”

Dummy beeps again.

“Fuuuuck.”

* * *

Looking for a part time job while his construction people do the flooring of his soon to be cafe thing, was actually not as hard as he thought. He was Tony fucking Stark. Even without money he was a genius. And a doctorate in engineering is far more in demand than one in the squishy sciences like zoology.

However, getting a part time job that would allow him to break even with his weekly expenses was a little harder.

“Dad!” He hisses into the phone angrily as he slams the door to his apartment closed and begins one-handedly fumbling out of his tie. “Did you think, maybe, just maybe, you should have told me that you’ve blacklisted me from every large tech corporation in America?!”

There’s silence on the other side of the line. And then, “You broke much faster than I expected.”

Tony flushes, he knows his father said that jokingly, that he wasn’t disappointed or anything, not yet at least, but the words were still not exactly pleasant to hear. “I didn’t break!” He defends insistently with a touch of desperation, “I just, I just,”

“No I didn’t mean it like-“ there’s a frustrated rumbling noise mixed in with what sounded like a swear that Tony knows is the sound his dad tends to make when faced with a particular difficult roadblock in his designs. “I was just... surprised Tony. I didn’t even try to get my act together till the six month mark.”

“Oh. Seriously?” Six months. Well, he imagines that ignoring any bank updates was always easier when you could just ignore an unopened letter than an email. And Tony knows his old man has some fairly expensive tastes of his own, he has to wonder how much was left of Howard’s ‘allowance’ after that. He doesn’t imagine a lot. “Huh.”

“Yeah. Huh.” Howard snorted, “I spent two weeks on a pot of cabbage soup, and when I said cabbage soup I meant I put a nine-day old cabbage in water, boiled it and added salt from my own bitter tears for some semblance of flavor.”

“Oh my god.” Tony says with no small amount of confused wonder and glee, “Oh my god. How have I not heard this before?!” He cackles, ignoring that he knows exactly why he hadn’t heard it before. Howard has never been much of a storyteller when he was younger. The fact he’s trying now makes the pathetic part of Tony want to jump up and down and hug a pillow.

“It wasn’t exactly my proudest moment,” Howard admits but he sounds oddly chuffed at the obvious delight in his son’s voice. “The point is, I’m glad you didn’t fall into the same trap I did Tony.”

“Oh.” Tony replies lamely, “Thanks.” Then after a beat of silence he remembers why exactly he called in the first place, “No, wait, you _blacklisted_ me!”

“Shit, was hoping you would forget that.”

“I got rejected!” Tony yells shrilly, “By _Hammer Industries_!”

“Why would you go to Hammer first?” Howard asks in a sort of horrified curiosity.

“Because Tiberius Stone and I are not on good grounds since I called him a few choice things on Twitter last month, I’m still waiting for Google’s response to my online resume, Wayne Industries insists on being more or less Gotham based and I would rather die than play lab assistant to Reed fucking goddamn smug ass Richa- look, that’s not the point, the point is-“

“The point is that I’ve blacklisted you from all the big companies yes.” Howard affirms and Tony can hear the laughter now. “Tony, do you really think it was going to be that easy?”

“I mean, yes?” In hindsight though, Tony couldn’t really imagine his father letting him produce inventions for any company but their own. God, he almost sold out to Hammer just to get the good cucumbers for his smoothies. He feels so dirty now. “Okay so maybe, you should tell me who else I can’t apply jobs for before my ego shrivels up and die when IKEA tells me I’m not qualified.”

His dad scoffs, which is cruel because Tony may seriously contemplate killing himself with an IKEA lamp if he ever gets to the point in his life where he is rejected by a DIY furniture store. Or maybe he would just keel over and die from the indignity of it all. “I didn’t blacklist you from every major business Tony don’t be ridiculous. Just the ones that relate to your field of expertise.”

“Oh goodie.” Tony deadpans, “At last I can pursue my true dream of being a Mcserver at a drive thru. Father how you spoil me so.”

“Look, I have a meeting at three so I’m going to cut you off now but the whole point of this exercise is to take advantage of your own skills or learn some new ones. Goodbye son.” And with that, Howard hung up on him. Because of course he did.

“Yeah.” Tony said uselessly. “Goodbye, old man.”

Hanging up his jacket and throwing his clothes on the floor, Tony went to take a nice appropriately long shower. Water was really expensive. Like what the fuck it’s water. _Why_.

With still wet hair, Tony flumps onto the couch- the interview that shall never be brought up again was penciled in for the morning so it’s the middle of the day still and he’s hardly in the mood to go out with no Rhodey to play with. Instead he watches some television and tinkers a bit more with the scraps he swiped before he left the mansion in favor of making... something.

What he ends up with after eleven back to back Friends episodes, is a robotic life-sized platypus that picks up sound frequencies and shakes accordingly so it looks like it’s trying to dance. Tony even adds a feature to the tail to thump up and down to the beat of the music when no one was singing.

He’s proud of his creation for all of five seconds before he realizes how fucking useless it is. It’s like Robo-dog all over again.

Tony sighs and decides at the very least he could make a funny video out of it. So he cranks up that one song that the Lemur King from Madagascar sings, puts on his favorite tinted sunglasses onto Shaky-Legs and films two minutes of the robotic animal trying to bop to beat. It’s adorable. Even Dummy rolls over and tries, in an attempt to not be outdone by the new kid, to dance.

Posting it on Instagram was the only right thing to do. He tags Rhodey to it obviously, because he’s Tony’s platypus, and because Tony is a shithead, he captions the post as: **Made myself a new replacement since my old patriotic platypus went off to fight the good fight @TheRhodestoSuccess #ShakyLegsthePlatypus #friendreplacement #Iliketomoveitmoveit #dancebabydance** .

Satisfied with himself, Tony decides to eat some leftover boxed mac and cheese and finish watching Chandler and Joey losing a baby on a bus. Hah. Classic Chandler and Joey.

It’s only when his lunch is finished and the episode begins to close off with its theme song that he picks up his phone again. “Huh.” Apparently social media really, really liked ShakyLegs. Tumblr and Facebook are already all over the video. 

Tony smells opportunity.

 


End file.
